Legend of the Divine Archer

As the three men entered the blacksmith shop, Yan Jin's acute senses allowed him to recognize them instantly, despite his blindness. The distinctive cadence of their voices, the weight of their footsteps—all served as familiar markers in the mix of sound that filled the forge.

Leading the group was Gu Sha, the chief of warriors—a formidable figure in the village with the aura of an awakened level warrior. He presented himself with an air of authority with his presence commanding respect and deference from those around him.

Walking at his side was his son, Gu Zhun, a younger man with a brash demeanor and a hint of arrogance in his bearing. And in the rear was Old Zhu, the village leader—a wise and venerable figure whose words carried the weight of years of experience.

Gu Zhun's disdainful gaze fell upon Yan Jin as he worked on the arrows, a flicker of contempt appeared across his face. "Old Ma, why are you letting this cripple work on the hunt arrows?" he sneered in a tone laced with thinly disguised scorn. "You know how important this batch of arrows is. Can you take responsibility for failure?"

Old Ma, the blacksmith, merely took a nonchalant sip from his alcohol jug before responding with a brusque retort. "Tell your son he doesn't tell me how to run my shop," he snapped at the boy's father, his voice tinged with irritation. "If you're not satisfied, buy them somewhere else."

The exchange elicited a raised eyebrow from Gu Sha, as he observed the interaction between his son and the blacksmith. Sensing the tension in the air, Old Zhu the Chief intervened to redirected the flow the conversation."Don't bother with the young generation," he remarked. "Let us focus on the matter at hand."

With a nod from Gu Sha, the trio moved to the side to discuss the details of the hunt materials.

Gu Zhun was tall and imposing, his muscular frame resulting years of rigorous training and the formidable bloodline of the snow tiger that coursed through his veins. At the age of 15, he had awakened to the power of his bloodline—a feat that earned him the admiration and envy of many in Creek Village.

He was paraded as a prodigy, the heir to his father's legacy, destined to become one of the strongest warriors the village had ever known.

He remembered very well the day that Yan Jin had appeared in the village, his ghostly figure with scarred eyes that seemed to see into the depths of his soul. The commotion that followed had stirred something ugly within him, a sense of disdain for this interloper who dared to defy the odds and cling stubbornly to life despite his weaknesses.

Over the years, Gu Zhun had made it his mission to torment and belittle Yan Jin whenever the opportunity arose. He saw the blind youth as nothing more than a burden—an inconvenience that served as a constant reminder of his own mortality in a world that demanded strength and resilience above all else.

Why did Yan Jin insist on clinging to life when he had nothing to offer the village but his own weakness?

In his youthful arrogance, Gu Zhun had resorted to cruel taunts and petty acts of aggression, hoping to drive Yan Jin away or, better yet, see him succumb to the harsh realities of their world. But no matter how many rocks he threw or insults he hurled, Yan Jin remained steadfast in his resolve, and a silent witness to Gu Zhun's cruelty.

And as he prepared to embark on his first hunt—a rite of passage that would test his mettle and define his place in the village—Gu Zhun couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at the thought of facing the blind ghost once more.

Yan Jin remained blissfully unaware of the torment Gu Zhun was going trought; his focus narrowed down to the simple act of forging of arrows.

Gu Zhun reached out with trembling fingers to grasp the ribbon covering Yan Jin's eyes, his intent was driven by the simmering resentment that had long festered within him. He believed the blind teenager to be nothing more than a charlatan hiding behind a facade to garner sympathy and favor. With a swift motion, he attempted to snatch away the ribbon.

Just, as the ribbon was pulled away, revealing Yan Jin's scarred face, a hushed gasp escaped the lips of those present. The scars that covered Yan Jin's eyes were a painful reminder of the hardships he had faced, deep gashes crisscrossed his skin, tracing a map of suffering .

But it was Yan Jin's eyes that drew the most attention—or rather, the absence thereof. Where once there had been vibrant, expressive eyes, there were now only hollow sockets, devoid of light or life. His gaze was vacant, a haunting void that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality, leaving those who met it feeling unsettled and unnerved.

Startled by the sensation of someone tugging at the cloth that concealed his scarred face, Yan Jin reacted instinctively, swinging his hammer with all his strength in a desperate bid to defend himself.

The blow struck true, catching Gu Zhun off guard and sending him sprawling to the ground with a cry of pain. As the cloth fell away, revealing Yan Jin's scarred visage to the world, a shocked silence descended upon the forge, broken only by the sound of Gu Zhun's anguished screams.

The commotion drew the attention of the three men outside, who rushed into the workshop. Gu Sha, the chief of warriors, was the first to arrive on the scene, his expression filled with fury and concern as he took in the sight of his son lying injured on the floor.

Without a moment's hesitation, Gu Sha unleashed a powerful palm strike, propelling Yan Jin backwards with a force that sent him crashing through the doorway and tumbling into the dirt outside. The impact knocked the breath from Yan Jin's lungs, leaving him gasping for air as he struggled to regain his bearings.

Meanwhile, inside the forge, Gu Zhun lay writhing in pain, his face contorted in agony as he clutched at his injured side. Old Ma and Old Zhu rushed to his side; their faces etched with concern as they assessed the extent of his injuries.

Old Ma confronted Gu Sha with his words, a sharp rebuke to the chief of warriors. "As an awakened warrior, you launch an attack on a child. Where is your shame?" His eyes blazed with fury as he stood up for the defenseless Yan Jin.

Rushing to Yan Jin's side, Old Ma helped him up, his hands gentle yet firm as he supported the injured young man. But as he did, he recoiled in shock at the sight of Yan Jin's bleeding wounds, his heart sinking with concern for his not so apprentice.

Yan Jin coughed up blood, his body wracked with pain as he struggled to stay upright. The force of Gu Sha's attack had left him battered and broken. His frail form, was no match for the power of an awakened warrior.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, Old Ma's demeanor shifted from anger to resolve. "Get out, all of you! Get out!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the forge with commanding authority. "You better forget about this order."

The instigator, Gu Zhun, stood frozen in disbelief, his arrogance shattered by the unexpected turn of events. He could scarcely believe that the blind fool he had tormented had struck back with such ferocity, leaving him injured and humiliated.

Meanwhile, Old Zhu attempted to mediate the escalating conflict, as he sought to understand what had transpired. From the looks of things, it was clear that the blame lay squarely on the shoulders of the young warrior, Gu Zhun, whose actions had sparked the chain of events that had led to this unfortunate outcome.

Gu Sha's words were laced with defiance as he refused to apologize for his actions. His gaze lingered upon Yan Jin's ghastly appearance; his contempt evident as he spoke. "He struck my son. I will not apologize for what I did," he declared, his voice dripping with disdain. "A beast like him should have been put down long ago."

Old Ma's rebuttal was a swift and scathing indictment of Gu Sha's hypocrisy. "Your son got beaten by a mortal, and you defend him! What a good protector, what a good warrior," he retorted.

As the confrontation escalated, more onlookers began to gather, drawn by the commotion unfolding before their eyes. Sensing the growing spectacle, the village chief stepped forward, his voice tinged with unease as he attempted to diffuse the tension. "Can we do this indoors? People are watching," he suggested, his eyes darting nervously between the two men.

Feeling Old Ma hesitate in his response, Yan Jin detached himself from the old blacksmith, his movements slow and deliberate. An eerie laugh escaped his parched throat, interrupted by a fit of dry coughing. The sight of him struggling to maintain his balance sent a pang of sympathy coursing through the onlookers.

Step by step, Yan Jin made his way back to his smithing station, the weight of his hammer and gourd heavy in his hands. With a determined air, he retrieved his ribbon from the floor and wrapped it once more around his scarred eyes, shielding them from view.

Without a word, he turned away from the workshop, his posture straight and proud despite the pain. With each stride, he walked away from the chaos and the judgmental stares of the crowd.